


Prologue

by vidramon



Series: DQB2 [1]
Category: Dragon Quest Builders (Video Games)
Genre: Isle of Awakening, unidentified builder with no lines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:01:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25012081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vidramon/pseuds/vidramon
Summary: My take on the moments between the Malroth of yore and the Malroth we know.
Series: DQB2 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1743802
Comments: 5
Kudos: 16





	Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Potential implied spoilers if you haven't finished the game / explored certain areas on your island, but nothing is actually said? 
> 
> Thanks to CanterburyBells, Dena & Hikari for pre-reading for me :)

Tattered wings and rippling arms are thrashing, blood is spilling from wounds innumerable... Around it all, the citadel walls take the brunt of the chaos. A snake hisses and a dying god groans in agony. He is fading. It is _he_ that has been destroyed. 

A familiar cackle echoes in the chamber.

**“Rest, Lord Malroth. Your most faithful servant has saved you. Your body is lost, but it's no matter. We shall triumph in the end, and all will be destroyed. I will return when the preparations are complete.”**

The eyes close, the body falls still, and the mind begins to splinter within a deep slumber. 

\--

**“Worry not, my Lord. Your Awakening will be upon us before you know it. I have arranged for everything! In the meantime, this pitiful form will have to do. My apologies, my Lord. Though I'm sure the Master of Destruction will have no trouble destroying, whatever form He may take. It is time for you to move once again. I will be here, watching over you. Enjoy this world of illusion! Arise, Malroth!”**

Red eyes flick open, glowing, but not quite seeing. A seed of consciousness reaches for light behind those eyes. 

A hand pushes up from under the body. The ground is harder than it should be. It's the palm that gives rather than the stubborn stone, but up the body goes all the same. Ominous dark green and glints of gold surround. 

What? Where? 

Inventory. Two legs, two arms. Soft. They're all so soft. Cloth? Orange here, purple there. The hands are gloved in red, as are the feet. Reinforcement? A coolness touches the chest with a clink. The arm reaches, the face turns down. White, smooth, and sharp, something dangling from the neck.

Go. _Go!_ The need to move. The need to destroy. The need to _do._ The legs move the body forward, slowly learning the feeling of resistance from the ground below as they go, and eventually the body emerges in the sea. 

The water whips and whirls around, drowning the still dull senses further. Deep and dark. Arms join the legs in movement to swim. This must be the way. These limbs are strong enough to cut through the water and the current, with effort. What seemed to be soft covers capable muscles, after all. Soon, the head emerges, shakes the clinging water droplets free, and the body staggers uncertainly onto land. 

The sand gives beneath the feet... something softer than this body. There's a heat drying the skin. Is it from within, or from the air? The head shakes, frustrated at the slow senses, the lack of understanding. Something wet and spiky slaps the face as it does so, stinging slightly. A hand reaches up, feels... hair? 

Arms are limp at the sides, the body slightly hunched. It's much brighter here than where the eyes had first opened. The brow furrows and the eyes struggle to focus. Something _splats_ beneath the foot. The other foot kicks instinctively at the sand, sending granules flying. The legs keep moving forward, crunching through the sand. Something brown and brittle is in the way. The arm raises and punches it aside. The wood breaks easily, splintering, unrecognizable from its prior form. The fist smarts, but not painfully. The eyes take in the information, but it doesn't feel like truly _seeing_ , still. Why? 

The legs continue to move forward. Where? Arms join the legs to climb when the body suddenly faces a chalk wall. Like the stone from before, there is resistance. Even through the red, the palm can feel it. The resistance is like a challenge. “ _Destroy me!_ ” each material calls tauntingly. 

The body emerges at the top, the eyes attempt to look out at the sea. Something thrashes in the water, an irregularity in the steady pattern of the waves, before fading away. A sudden pull tugs at the core. There's something out there! It needs help! 

Go. _Go!_ The legs run, the arms swing, the body is off the cliff and across the sand and in the water. The sea is so vast, but somehow, the body knows where to go. This is the spot, this is definitely the spot. The hand pushes through the water, fingers outstretched, reaching. _Come on!_

Finally, the fingers connect. A hand in the hand. The hand grasps tightly, pulls the other out of the water. Something starts to fall into place. 

_Careful, now._ The resistance from this one is not the challenge of stone, nor is it the surrender of sand. The matter feels equal, though this one is currently limp. The soft body doesn't ask for destruction. In fact, it seems to radiate something else entirely. 

He drags them from the indifferent grasp of the sea. _If you can take it, it's yours,_ the water seems to say. The body is light in his arms, but strangely, also heavy. Not in weight… perhaps in import. He feels different, somehow, but he can't think about that right now. He needs to get them out of the water, needs to get them to safety. The water weighs down the cloth around his legs, making his movements less efficient. The give of the sand becomes a nuisance rather than a satisfaction. He pushes on nevertheless, and finally, he reaches the shore. He gently lays them down on the sand. As he looks into the face before him, it's as if light has started pouring into his awareness. 

His disjointed senses suddenly connect, snapping into place. He grins down at the body before him. He sees their chest rise and fall, their breathing soft and steady. He feels warm inside. "Sleeping, are you?" he laughs, his low voice hitting his own ears smoothly. "I guess it's just you and me here. I'm gonna look around, though. I'll be back in just a bit," he informs the sleeping person on the beach. 

He walks away, bounding back up and down the cliff, power and confidence surging in his muscles. He is making his way across the beach, back the way he must have come, enjoying his new clarity of perception, when a voice calls to him, stopping him in his tracks. 

**“Malroth…”**

"Yes?" he answers defiantly. "Who are you?" 

His eyes grow heavy. Suddenly, he's impossibly tired. He finds himself collapsing face first into the sand, a necessary slumber cocooning around his sprout of consciousness. 

\-- 

When Malroth woke up, he didn't know where he was or how he'd gotten there. In fact, as he looked around and thought some more, it seemed that all he really knew was that he was Malroth. "Well, let's have a look around then," he said to no one in particular, and off he went to explore along the beach. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was sparked by [this post-game dialogue](https://howwnowbrowncoww.tumblr.com/post/622177864388853760/so-ive-seen-several-neat-posts-from-vidramon). 
> 
> In my mind, the Malroth between God!Malroth and the moment we meet him is in a space where his identity hasn't quite formed. When he perceives the builder, the new identity starts to form. At least, that's what I was going for :) 
> 
> This will probably be the only thing I post without restricting to log-in because it's not specific to my builder.


End file.
